Under the Mistletoe
by Rumaan
Summary: Fed up of watching Jon moon across the counter at their redheaded customer, his colleagues take matters into their own hands


**Author's Note: ****Written for Game of Ships challenge on Tumblr (You can find me on Tumblr, under the same username (links on my profile)). This takes place in the obligatory ASOIAF AU coffee shop. I feel like a proper ASOIAF fanfic author now I've penned one of these.**

**Again, this is completely unbetaed (someone PLEASE put me out of my misery and offer to be my SPaG beta in this fandom- I hate posting unbetaed fics), so warnings once more for dodgy grammar, awkward sentences and/or typos.**

**Disclaimer: I'm not GRRM acting out my Jon/Sansa feels in a coffee shop AU on the internet**

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**Under the Mistletoe**

Jon could hear the sniggers of his team as he stopped in horror realising that mistletoe had been rigged up over the redhead's usual table. This was no coincidence and looking over at the counter, he knew precisely who was to blame as Alys and Tormund high-fived each other.

He should've realised there was something strange in Tormund's request that they include mistletoe in the decorations for the coffee shop yesterday. The café's owner Stannis had agreed reluctantly, muttering something about frivolous traditions under his breath and warning Jon that he needed to keep his team in check.

Jon managed the night's shift at the cafe, which Sam had dubbed the Night's Watch one boring night when custom had been thin on the ground and the hours had slowly ticked by. The name had stuck, even the daytime staff calling them that when they came in to take over, although they didn't mean it as a compliment.

Now he was looking at the mistletoe, Jon wished he could sack them all. Tormund and Alys had been on his case for weeks, nagging at him to ask out the pretty redhead – Sansa he knew her name was from her coffee orders – who turned up most nights to peer at her laptop, earphones on, ignoring the world in general.

Noticing the commotion over at the counter, Sansa, took out her headphones, turned her head up, looked at the mistletoe and then at him. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Tormund making smooching gestures, his arms wrapped around himself, as he snogged the empty air. Jon had stopped expecting any maturity from the older man, and as Sansa watched his colleague's antics, he realised he would be lucky if he exited this scenario with any dignity intact.

"I take it they are expecting us to kiss," she said over her shoulder at him, amusement lacing her tone.

As if hearing her words, Tormund called out, "Go on then, Snow, kiss her!"

"Er…yeah, I think so. Sorry about this."

She finally tore her eyes from his cavorting team (Pyp was now blowing air kisses at Grenn, waving a spare spig of mistletoe around, whilst Grenn fluttered his eyelashes in a dramatic manner, pretending to be coy), and swung around in her seat to face him. "It's okay. They seem pretty boisterous but harmless compared to some men I've met."

He eyed her curiously. Gone was the haunted look and the dull brown hair she had sported when she had first stepped foot in the café, close to 6 months ago. Now, her glorious hair hung down her back like a red silk curtain, and her blue eyes shone with mischief.

"So, it's Jon, right?"

"Yes," he replied, willing away the flush that stained his cheeks away at the realisation that she knew his name. She had noticed him enough register his name. His heart sped up at that and he felt like a foolish teenage girl.

"You better get on with it then. I think they're losing patience."

The banging that was coming from the counter proved her words correct. He mumbled another apology before he leant forward and dropped a quick peck on her right cheek.

"Is that it, Snow?" Tormund bellowed. "No wonder your member's in danger of shrivelling up and dropping off."

Completely humiliated, Jon swore under his breath, rubbing his hands over his eyes but Sansa's giggle made him drop his hand.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, it was very sweet of you to only kiss my cheek. Most men I've known would've assumed they had the right to snog me, especially with that kind of encouragement," she said, nodding towards the counter.

He wondered just what kind of men she had known and whether she had been subjected to forced kisses. He shrugged and said, "I'm not in the habit of forcing girls to do anything they don't want."

Her hand stretched out and patted his arm. "It's nice to meet someone decent. I'd begun to think heroes no longer existed."

That summoned a half-smile from him. "I'm not sure that makes me a hero."

"You'd be surprised," Sansa said, under her breath and he was sure that he wasn't meant to have heard it.

An awkward silence fell between them and Jon started to collect the cups on the tables around, piling them efficiently on the tray he'd brought with him for this task before the mistletoe and Sansa had distracted him. He determinedly refused to look over at his colleagues, sure that they would still be analysing everything he did, ready to tease him mercilessly when he returned.

However, Sansa didn't seem keen on returning to whatever she had been doing on her laptop. She hadn't replace the earphones and was watching him work. It caused him to fumble a little and drop a teaspoon, which clattered across the floor, resting by her foot. She stooped down and picked it up, twirling it between her fingers as if she was thinking hard.

"So," she said, elongating the vowels as if she still wasn't sure she wanted to continue before she said the rest in a rush of breath that had him leaning close to understand it. "Do you want to try that kiss again? Show those friends of yours that you do have what it takes."

Jon rocked back on his heels and dragged a hand through his hair. "What?!"

A breathless laugh escaped her throat. "You're keen on that word, aren't you?"

"I just like to be sure," he said defensively, looking down at his feet.

"It's not a problem for me. I like that you double check. Some people don't bother to check at all."

He shot her a glance through his lashes, unsure if she was mocking him or not. He was always teased about being useless with women, his hesitant approach making most of his team laugh, but he wasn't comfortable being any other way. He couldn't just go and grab the girl without knowing that she wanted the same thing.

"Really," Sansa said with an encouraging smile. "So, how about it? Want to give your colleagues something to talk about?"

The heat in her cheeks gave away the fact that she wasn't as confident as she made out and it put him at ease. If she was willing to go out on a limb for him then he was more than happy to meet her halfway.

"Sure," he replied.

Sansa pushed her chair back, rising slowly, rubbing her hands down her jeans in a nervous gesture. She stepped closer to him, so close that he could almost count the individual eyelashes that surrounded her vivid blue eyes. She was tall and had no need to stand on tip-toes to reach his lips, just tip her head up, her hands resting high on his chest to keep her balance as she move in to touch his lips with hers.

Hesitantly, she moved her lips against his, keeping the kiss light and sweet, however when her tongue peeped out and swiped his lips, he growled, swept his arms around her waist, gathering her close so she pressed tightly against him, and parted her lips with his. Making a sound low in her throat, she snaked her arms around his neck and carded her hands through his hair.

Jon had no idea how long they kissed, lost in the sensation of her soft lips, but when they finally pulled apart, breathing heavily and staring into each other's eyes, the wolf-whistles and hollers from the counter reminded him that they had an audience.

Sansa grinned up at him, two patches of red blazing in her cheeks. "If you kiss like that, Jon, I feel cheated by that first kiss."

Amused, he laughed before he said teasingly, "Maybe I can do more than that."

She grabbed a pen off the table and then his hand, before she inked her telephone number on the back. "Maybe you should call me then."

He watched as she collected her belongings, putting her laptop back in her rucksack and then swinging it over her shoulder. "I wouldn't wait too long," she added with a wink before leaning up and dropping a brief kiss on the tip of his nose.

Bemused, he could do nothing but nod and follow her with his eyes as she left, waving casually over her shoulders as she closed the door behind her.

With a grin on his face and a slight swagger in his step, Jon made his way back to the counter, the tray abandoned on the table he had placed it on.

As he slipped back behind the counter, Tormund slapped him on the back. "There's hope for you yet, Snow."


End file.
